


grip me tight and hold me (for as long as you can)

by theholyjuggernaut



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, M/M, S15E18, Season 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27415777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theholyjuggernaut/pseuds/theholyjuggernaut
Summary: No amount of horror or devastation could have prepared Dean for this loneliness.-Season 15, episode 18. I had to get my jitters out through writing or else I wouldn't be able to sleep. I'm still in shock.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	grip me tight and hold me (for as long as you can)

**Author's Note:**

> Title based off this song: https://soundcloud.com/user-272629114/darling-dont-you-worry

It didn’t feel real. 

The Winchesters had seen living, breathing monsters; both human and inhuman. All manner of horrors in the world. They fought and befriended demons, angels–the evil and the celestial, and witnessed the fine line between the two drastically become blurry. 

But that was normalcy in the life of Dean Winchester. Now all he seemed to want was a white picket fence, the occasional beer, and some damn peace and quiet. Dean used to seek out the nasty and corrupt–and for what? For revenge, an adrenaline rush? Distraction, maybe. 

Still, no amount of horror or devastation alike could have prepared Dean for the loneliness currently looming overhead. Nothing could stop the unforgiving tremble across his skin as a tortured creature crawled out from the darkness. The only place where Dean felt warmth was his shoulder sleeve. 

A bloody handprint. Cas’ blood. 

That was absolutely the last thing Dean wanted to focus on, but he’d been slouching against the same wall for half an hour unable to think of anything else. At one point, Dean stopped trying to resist the fresh memories replaying in his head. He ended up wanting– _ needing _ –to remember. 

The flood of memories slammed against Dean’s temples; there was just too much. Too much to think about, to preserve, to savor before it was all gone. Before everything became frayed and unreliable; sentences merging, splitting, and shuffling in his mental transcript. And despite how painful it was, Dean wanted to relive every second. Just in case it really was the last time. 

Another surge of memories. Castiel’s tearful azure eyes; a strong, loving smile. Who was he to deserve those tears, that unconditional love? They were beautiful things Dean was sure he’d never forget, send him straight to Hell if he did. There was a damn lot of beauty gone unacknowledged in the world; the way Cas’ lips formed words, and his voice–full of more love than Dean knew what to do with, and certainly more than he deserved. How did it seem to come so naturally?

The still-warm pulse on Dean’s shoulder and the echoing of the angel’s voice in his head was so new that it almost felt tangible. With enough effort, maybe Dean could wind back time until both he and Cas returned right there, right where he’d been staring for the past half hour. And he could stop Cas from saying:  _ Because the one thing I want is something I know I can’t have.  _

A wave of guilt and helplessness pulsed through Dean’s heart–apparently his eyes had more tears to spare. He searched around the room, lost. Was he as utterly alone as he felt, or could Cas somehow still hear his voice? 

“You do have me, Cas,” Dean said in earnest, “But you never stay for long. You’re always leaving, you know that?”

It almost felt like betrayal to refer to Cas in the past tense, so he didn’t. Couldn’t. There was still some part in the hunter that hoped Cas wasn’t actually gone. That somehow, a miracle would bring him back, just like there always had been. Even in the worst situations, hope was ever-present. But now, the hope seemed more like a sacrifice, and that sacrifice had been Castiel. 

Dean let his hands drop, facing the silence. “This time I thought, maybe...” 

The lump in his throat became unbearable to speak around. Another wave of tears was coming. 

“I wanted things to change, man. We could’ve beat the bad guys and gone home happy for once. No casualties, no loss.” Dean chuckled weakly. “I might have even gotten my head out of my ass, maybe enough to admit how I feel. But when… when you started talking, I froze up.”

The words were pouring–unstoppable–from his mouth. “It didn’t feel real. Like a dream mixed with a nightmare, and I just wish you could hear me say it back. I love you, Cas. And I blew it. You were right there in front of me, and I blew it.”

Dean crumpled, allowing the wall of anguish inside him to widen. “Now you’re gone forever,” his voice cracked, “and I don’t know what I’ll do without you. When you’re not here, Cas, it don’t feel right. I need you. So if you can hear me, I’m gonna do all I can to bust you out of there. I swear, I’m gonna get you out of there.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Y'all today has been a DAY. I can't believe that happened. Now Tumblr is full of memes about Putin and Destiel and the elections and it all feels like one big fat fever dream. I'm gonna go to sleep and see if this is, in fact, a real timeline that I am currently residing in.


End file.
